Yesterday, I was awakened from a nap by a harsh "TING TING-TING TI-TING" kind of noise. I followed the sound to the bathroom, peeked out the window, and saw a person in full camoflage, goggles, and a rifle pressed against the vacant house adjacent to ours. I slid to the front door, flipped the locks, and peered outside. Hiding in the bushes was another soldier, rifle cocked.
"Holy sh*t! Burbank is at war!" was my first thought, but the notion evaporated as soon as the soldier stood up. He had the stature of a teenager and his rifle had a bright orange tip.
Then another round of "TING TING-TING TI-TING" spattered against our house.
Rarely do I have to act like an adult, but the role naturally surged through me. I clenched my fists, puffed out my chest, grew my beard a half-inch longer, and ran outside, yelling, "Dagnabbit! You crazy kids know you can't shoot guns in the neighborhood!!" The boys stopped firing, simultaneously said, "You're old," and disappeared around the corner of the house.
I shouted after them, "Get back here you little brats!! I have some bunny ears to put on you!"
What kind of a parent lets his/her kids shoot automatic Airsoft guns in a residential neighborhood?? Maybe I am getting old.